


Stuck in Colder Weather

by thebestoftimes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I hope you like it, M/M, it was inspired by "colder weather" by the zac brown band in case you cant tell from the title, set in the beginning of season seven, this is cliche and sappy and dean would probably hate it but thats okay because i like it, this is pure cliche angst, with the leviathans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebestoftimes/pseuds/thebestoftimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cas walked into that lake, he did more damage to Dean than anyone knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck in Colder Weather

_I’m not okay._

The words hovered on Dean’s lips, not daring to make themselves heard. He tried to drown them in whiskey.

“Damnit Cas,” he grunted, yet again. The angel was gone, the Leviathans were taking over, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sometimes it was as though he could hear the faint flapping of wings over the sound of the trees rustling outside. Every once in a while, he felt as though Cas were right behind him, invading his personal space in the most welcome way. Occasionally, he found himself praying to the angel, shouting to the void, and hoping for some response that was more than an echo of his own voice. _Come back to me, Cas._

Dean’s shoulder prickled with the memories of Castiel’s handprint, memories of a barn so far from here and knowledge of his best friend raising him from perdition. His face burned with the thought of how he had never even begun to repay him. His throat burned with yet more whiskey.

Maybe if he burned so much, this deep, bitter cold that rested inside him would go away.

 _Pathetic,_ he thought, slamming his empty glass against the table and getting up to serve himself a cup of coffee. He took it black.

 _Eh, what the hell._ He poured a dash of whiskey into that too.

Dean found himself standing out a window at the night sky. “Cas, if you’re out there-anywhere out there,” he murmured, in one last desperate attempt at finding the angel, “I hope you hear me. And I hope you come back. And I’ll be watching out for you. Because, you know...you’ve always done that for me. And I’ll make sure that...that tomorrow is better for you. I’m sorry, Cas. Damnit.”

A breeze washed into the room from outside; it was chilly. Dean didn’t know whether it was a sign or not. Probably not. All it did was make him colder.

 

 


End file.
